A Thief and a Coward
by Corvidfeathers
Summary: Faustina Collari, the Templar's Thief, is sent to spy on La Volpe.  What she learns about the Assassins will test her loyalty to the Templar cause.  No pairings.
1. Coward

**A/N: This takes place in the same universe as one of my other fics, Petals Under Eagle Talons.**

**Many multiplayer characters will be incorporated.**

Two children fled over the rooftops of Roma. They were young, barely in their teens, and terror was plain on their faces. The girl stumbled, and the boy caught her, urging her on. They jumped from roof to roof, with the ease that comes from practice. But hot on their heels was a white-hooded figure. He was clearly even more at ease, scaling walls effortlessly where the two children had had to spend precious seconds scrambling for handholds.

The children had the advantage of knowing the city better. The girl knew if only they could only get down and lose their pursuer in the crowd, than they could escape into the shadows of the city. Their pursuer might have been stronger and better trained, but he was clearly unfamiliar with the layout of Roma. The man would have no hope of finding their hideout.

Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, but desperation fueled her on. Her brother, his dark hair flying, kept a firm hold of her sleeve. The Collari twins looked so different most assumed them to be courting, when they saw them on the streets, but for the fact that they were far too poor for such frivolities. She was dressed in nothing more than a ragged blue tunic, and her feet were bare. Her brother had a dusty old jacket that had been their father's, and a pair of patched britches.

Neither knew what prompted the man to chase them. They had heard whispered tales of predators that hunted the Borgia, white-hooded shadows that swooped out of the night, made their kills, and then melted away again. Some said that they were demons, others that they were angels sent by God, but most dismissed them as merely specters conjured up by long, fearful nights spent cooped up in guard towers and patrolling the city streets. There were plenty of cutthroats and thieves that roamed the alleys and slums of the cities of Italia, and they often found the city guards and militia rich pickings. It was much more honorable to claim your friends had been killed by some devils, rather than a common criminal.

The rumors had faded to mere whispers by the time they reached Roma. No attacker, angel or not, would dare disobey the Borgia within its walls. It was the center of power, and its citizens were confident in the knowledge that no matter how far Venice descended into chaos, they would be safe within the walls of Roma.

They were wrong. This realization came to Faustina and Adrian ten years before it reached anyone else.

Adrian threw a glance over his shoulder, and only a quick tug from his sister stopped him from running smack into a roof storage stall. She pulled too hard, however, and sent him staggering straight into the path of their pursuer.

The white-robed man had been balanced at the edge of the roof. Adrian smashed into him, and they were both sent over the edge. Faustina made a grab from her brother. Her fingers met his shirt, but the worn fabric ripped, leaving her holding only a handful of cloth. She threw it aside and drew her scissor blade.

It was the finest possession she had. When their mother had finally succumbed to the pneumonia that had been eating her away for weeks, Adrian and Faustina. had been left with nothing but a pair of steel scissors and a few coins. Not even enough for a pauper's grave, Their mother's illness had been a costly one. So they had buried her as best they could, and split the scissors for makeshift weapons. The newly christened blade had been surprisingly resilient, and invaluable in thieving.

She sprang to the edge of the building. It was a only a drop of a few feet, so both their assailant and her brother were unharmed. The white-hooded man grappled with Adrian. Adrian could only hold his own for a few seconds before the well-muscled man threw him off. There was the metallic sound of metal on metal, and the man brought his wrist down onto Adrian's chest.

For a second she thought he had just punched her brother. But the metal blade that had slid from his sleeve said otherwise. Adrian opened his mouth and screamed. The scream descended into a guttural choke, and pink froth bubbled from his lips. She had been about to attack, to defend her brother. Adrian's eyes met hers, and seemed to be looking straight through her. No one could live with a wound like that.

She didn't freeze in fear. She had seen far too many meet brutal ends to do that.

Faustina ran.

She didn't know why the man didn't catch her. She didn't know where she was going, but fear pushed her onwards. She had to run, get far, far away. Maybe her brother would be waiting… maybe it would be all nothing but a nightmare…

Her path led her back to the neighborhood that they had once lived in, years before. Her only memories of the place, nothing more than brief snatches, were colored in vivid shades of all colors imaginable. In the alleys the only colors were the stone gray of the walls and the red of blood. Indeed the murderer had looked quite out of place, pristine and white against the filth. Pristine until the white had been soaked through with Adrian's blood.

Faustina finally had to stop running, nearly collapsing against a wall. Her scissor blade was still clutched in her hand, and her fingers were beginning to ache. She slid it back into her sleeve, choking back tears. She had always been able to trust Adrian, and he had always trusted her.

That trust had been misplaced.

Even now, horrified and exhausted, self-preservation ruled. She cast a look around at her surroundings. The young thief had fled into an unfamiliar part of the city, far from the alleys that were her and her brother's home. She slid down to the ground, and drew her knees up her chest. Her dirty mess of hair fell into her eyes.

There was a ragged empty feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if a vital organ had been ripped out. She couldn't go on without her brother. She couldn't, and yet she had. She had left him behind, behind to die.

Faustina hadn't been willing to risk her life for her brother. He hadn't been dead, not yet at least, and she had run away. Now he was most certainly dead, probably left to bleed out alone while the stranger went after her.

So immersed in her thoughts, she didn't notice the approaching figure. A foot nudged her. She snapped out of her reverie, and scrambled to her feet, pulling her blade out of her sleeve. But instead of the hooded murderer, there was another man standing over her. He was dressed in a white shirt and a fine green vest, and had a lethal-looking razor hanging at his waist. His skin was pale, and a rather impressive mustache adorned his face, along with an equally remarkable set of eyebrows that seemed to give him a perpetually disbelieving expression.

She froze, her blade poised to strike. The man had an air of menace about him. Nothing overt, but she had a sense he used the razor for something other than shaving. She was quick, and cunning, and against a brute of a fighter had a chance. But this man was no brute. He looked to be the sort that relied on his cunning as well.

"That young man just killed was your brother," it wasn't stated like a question.

She shivered "Y-Yeah."

"Do you know what that killer was?" he asked. She shook her head, fingers still curled around the hilt of her scissor blade. "He was an Assassin. There is a whole Order of them, men who kill anyone who annoys them, and believe that to be righteous."

Faustina had never been to court, never been educated on politics. So she nodded, willing to believe the man. He was a stranger, but he had no reason to lie to her.

_An Assassin._ The vague rumors she had heard sprung to mind, and this time they took on a darker tone.

This Assassin had murdered her brother, without any provocation. He would have murdered her as well, if he had caught her.

It has been ten years, and she still hasn't forgotten.

(((((((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Faustina crept forward, keeping her query in sight. The thief had been hunting this particular prey for only a few minutes, but already she was ready to make her move. Her query had walked down into a secluded alley, where no guards would hear her cries. Of course the guards were on Faustina's side, but she hated calling unnecessary attention to herself.

She crouched, and sprung from the roof onto the back of her target. The woman yelped, and shoved her off with one hand, pulling a lethal-looking hairpin from her hair with the other. The thief dodged a strike from the hairpin, and grabbed the woman's wrist before she could try to impale her again.

The woman paused, and got a good look at her attacker. She started to laugh. Faustina joined her in mirth, and soon they were both giggling. The Dama Rossa tucked her hairpin away, and helped the Thief up.

"Faustina, what were you thinking?" she exclaimed, sounding more amused than angry. "I could have killed you!""

Faustina chuckled. "Just testing you. You're losing your touch Garnette. If I had been an assassin, you would be dead."

Garnette, the Dama Rossa, laughed scornfully. "If you had been an Assassin, I would have spotted you a mile off. Those white robes they wear on ridiculous."

"Coming from someone who knows how to look inconspicuous," Faustina eyed the Dama Rossa's getup. It could be described many ways, but subtle was not one of them.

"At least I am not too proud to wear plainclothes when the occasion calls for it," Garnette chuckled. "But mio amica, I haven't seen you in months. How have you been?"

"Well enough," Faustina grinned. "But this is far from a pleasant place to have a conversation. I know a quiet spot, not far from here, where we could talk without being disturbed. I have some news.""

She had an assignment for the Dama Rossa, from Baltasar, but she would prefer to get a chance to catch up with her friend before broaching the subject. The spymaster's mission could wait.

Garnette groaned. "I know your idea of a quiet place. I am not in the mood to go climbing- I just arrived in Roma. I need to find and inn that can supply me with some hot food and a bath." Unlike many of the other Templars, Garnette didn't have a home within Roma. She stayed in inns, at one of the Templar's bases, or in Faustina's hideout. She figured buying a house would draw too much attention to herself, and she rarely stayed in one city for long anyway.

Faustina laughed. "We can get some food on the way."

"Fine," the Dama Rossa sighed.

They walked through the streets of Roma, keeping to alleys and quiet roads, where they would be away from crowds. Both had been Templar agents long enough to value the absence of so many prying eyes, though Faustina knew that often times a crowd was the best place to hide.

She led the Dama Rossa to a small bakery. It was run by a somber-looking old woman, and was far from a fancy affair. It sold weak tea and pastries that came in two varieties- sickeningly sweet or thick enough that you would be chewing through them for hours. Placing coins on the counter, Faustina ordered one of the latter for herself and one of the former for Garnette. She tucked the wrapped food into her pack, and they set off again

((((((()))))))

It was surprisingly easy to get Garnette to agree to scale the Pantheon. Perhaps the other woman shared her love of heights, or perhaps she just wanted to humor Faustina. The Thief grinned, biting in to her pastry.

"I am fairly sure that this is sacrilegious," the Dama Rossa remarked.

"Maybe," Faustina shrugged. She had never given much thought to religion, despite the fact some of her fellows were quite absorbed in it.

" What have you been up to? Assembled a band of thieves for yourself?"

Faustina snorted. "As if." She preferred to work alone on her assignments. Others just got in the way, or ordered her around. The Thief was fine working with other fighters in battle or combat missions, but when it came to information gathering she was the only pair of ears she could trust. "There is a new leader of the thieves in this city. La Volpe. Heard of him?"

The Dama Rossa twisted a curl of her red hair through around her fingers. "La Volpe… yes I think I have. He is the leader of the thieves Florence, is he not?"

"Not anymore," Faustina said. "He has come here, set himself up and leader, and is trying to organize all the thieves. And worse, he's an assassin. The Borgia have been trying to catch him for years, and he has escaped them every time. They say he robbed the Pope's carriage, without the Pope or his guards noticing."

"You spend too much time listening to rumors," Garnette said scornfully. "But that is bad news. The assassins are getting bolder."

She nodded, finishing off her pastry and licking her fingers. "Baltasar gave me a mission, and sent me to give you yours."

"Oh?" Garnette gazed out at the city roofs.

She handed the Dama Rossa an envelope. "The details are in there."

Garnette skimmed over the contract, and slipped it into the pouch that hung at her waist. "The usual. What's your assignment?"

The Thief bit her lip. "Infiltrating the new Thieves' guild."


	2. What A Lovely Gift

**A/N: I fussed quite a bit over the plot of this chapter, and how exactly Faustina would find and infiltrate La Volpe's thieves. **

Garnette laughed. "Even I have heard of La Volpe's reputation. It was nice knowing you, Faustina." She clapped her on the shoulder.

Garnette was Faustina's closest friend- perhaps her only friend. Probably the only person she trusted. The Thief was slow to get attached to people, and even slower to really trust them. When the Dama Rossa had joined the Templars, she had found an unexpected friend. Just like the Thief, it was loss that drove Garnette to kill.

Unlike her, the loss had been inflicted by her own hand.

She probably would have been considered crazy by most people, but by Templar standards, she was unusually sane.

Faustina shoved her playfully. "I am more than a match for that old fox."

"Ha!" Garnette smirked. "Nonetheless, I wish you luck."

"You too," the Thief got to her feet.

"Me? I won't need it," the Dama Rossa rose as well, giving her a quick hug. "What do you say we meet back here, perhaps, in a month's time?"'

Faustina shook her head. "I'll probably be occupied with this job for longer than that. Not all of us have the simple task of killing."

The Dama Rossa shrugged. "Later, than. Hope to see you alive again."

With their business, the farewell wasn't so much morbid as realistic. The Assassins had plowed through the ranks of the Borgia guard. As soon as they caught wind of the Templar operatives they would try to do the same. They had already killed several of them- Il Carnafice had perished at an assassin's blade the previous year. There were some of the Templars that would be more than a match for an Assassin, but the assassins had gotten many men who previously had been thought untouchable.

Some of the others remained willfully ignorant, believing that the Borgia influence was too strong. But underneath the veneer everyone always tense, always waiting for the roof to come crashing down on their heads. The Borgia rule seemed precarious at best sometimes, despite the safety of Roma. Even that was being compromised now that the assassins were starting to creep into the city. Faustina had heard whispers of Ezio Auditore hunting in the streets of the city, swooping down on his prey, and flying off once the deed was done.

Ezio Auditore. If she were a better fighter, more reckless, more courageous, she would have already sought him out.

She was a coward, though, and terrified. She would rather face the myth-shrouded La Volpe any day.

"As do I," she nodded to the Dama Rossa, and started climbing back down the building.

(((((((((((()))))))))))))

La Volpe was a tricky query. He was not easy to find, and Faustina knew it would be even harder to gain his trust. Like all assassins (or at least the ones that lived) he was a cautious, suspicious man. One who hid his tracks carefully, and kept his recruitments a secret.

It would be best if she could gain his trust quickly. Times were volatile, and a few weeks, days even, could make a crucial difference.

Faustina spent fruitless weeks lurking, listening. She searched the city, from the slums to the mansions of lord and courtiers. Almost everything she discovered was useless. More myths, more of what Garnette would call drivel. Faustina was less quick to dismiss it as such- myths were usually either grounded in some fact, or started for a purpose. They were useless to her search however.

In the underbelly of the city, the ghettos and back alleys that the Thief had grown up in, the tides were changing. Many of the courtesans, thieves, and mercenaries supported the Assassins. Those who did not were growing rarer.

She had lost many of her contacts in the past months. They had been killed in bar fights, or merely vanished. It would have been too optimistic to the think it was a coincidence. The city was sending a message. The Borgias may control the upper class, but the lower class was turning towards the Assassins.

Still, she knew Roma better than La Volpe, or any assassin. She had prowled its streets since she was six. She knew every gutter, every run down inn, every seedy tavern. And unlike some of the flashier Templars, she kept her true loyalties hidden. Faustina sold information to those who could afford it, provided that they could find her. The Thief was careful who she told what, always using it to help along the schemes of Cesare or her fellows.

Roma was her city.

And she wouldn't let it fall into the Assassin's hands.

She returned to one of her hideouts one evening, after another day of sifting through useless information. Another of her contacts had vanished, his store burned down. She kicked open the rooftop hatch, not bothering with caution, and dropped into the room.

Faustina went for the supply of candles and matches she kept, but tripped over something in the dark. That was odd- she knew the layout of all her hideouts very well. She reached down, and something cold and wet. When she jerked back, the dim light coming from the moon through the roof hatch showed her fingers were covered in blood.

"Collari," she spun around at the voice, drawing her scissor blade. Internally, she was cursing herself. How could she have been so careless? Someone must have followed her one of the previous nights, seen where her hideout was…

There was someone, a man judging by his voice, standing on the far side of the room. He uncovered a candle, illuminating his face. He was a stocky man, possessing only one eye. He was dressed in a now familiar green gray uniform.

One of La Volpe's thieves.

"Collari," he took a step towards her.

The Thief stepped back, and stumbled over the thing on the ground again. A glance told her it was the corpse of a young woman, about her age, and possessing the same shade of dusty blonde hair as Faustina.

"W-What?" she snapped, perturbed. This must be La Volpe trying to recruit her… he would have no knowledge of her Templar connections… but why was there a dead woman on her floor?

She stole a glance at the hatch, wondering if she could stab the man and escape. It was a small space, and she knew her way around it much better than this intruder. But he looked stronger than her, and if he got her in his grip… Besides, killing him now would be rash. La Volpe would know it was a rejection of his offer, and retaliate.

"Cesare sends his regards," the man smiled. It was an expression that had a tinge of madness.

Her mind whirled.

"You are one of La Volpe's thieves," she said cautiously, slipping the scissor blade back into her sleeve. A step brought her closer to the other thief, and she got a better look at him. The candle's light made him look like quite a creepy figure, but he was nothing more than a grubby man. Easy to overcome if it came to a fight. But who sent him?

He nodded, and held out a letter to her. It was marked with the seal of the Borgia house. "That is not all I am, Signora Collari," he said.

She took the letter, and ran a finger over seal that had been pressed into the wax. It looked real. It was intricate, and only the best metalworkers would have been able to replicate the signet well enough.

The Assassins could have had it replicated. It could be a test to see whose side she was on.

"What does Cesare Borgia want with me?" she sneered, looking up from the envelope.

He snatched it back before she could react. "That was not for you. I was merely proving that I my alliances are not where they seem to be."

Faustina eyed him incredulously. It was a bold move, if he was telling the truth. "The Borgias have a spy within La Volpe's ranks?"

If they did, she didn't see the reason they had sent her to do the same. But she worked under Baltasar, not directly for Cesare. If this man worked for Cesare, the spymaster-barber wouldn't know about him. She doubted Cesare would have seen it necessary to tell him. That man liked playing with his Templar agents, setting them against each other, making sure none of them gained too much power.

"Of course! You know what I am talking about," he looked at her, and she was confused to see admiration in his eyes. Admiration, and a bit of obsession. "You work for the cause."

The Thief laughed. "What cause? I don't work for the Assassins."

"Not the Assassins," he cringed, as if expecting her to strike him for suggesting it. "The Templars."

La Volpe could have sent this man, assuming that she did work for the Templars, trying to lure her into admitting it. Perhaps she had made a mistake, and he had heard she was searching for him. Then again it was an elaborate ruse. The Assassins usually preferred strike first and ask questions later. They wouldn't have put so much time into weaving a trap for someone who seemed so low level. If they knew that she worked for the Templars, they wouldn't have bothered in the first place.

"Are you a Templar?" It was an innocent enough question. Not one that would put her on one side or the other.

"No! No of course not," he glanced around the room. Nervous. Was this madness an act? Or was he genuinely a crazed informant? It seemed to good to be true that an opportunity would just fall into her lap. "I can only dream of that honor. I only further their cause." Again, he gave her that look of admiration. It was unnerving.

"Why… why is there a dead woman in my hideout?" she asked.

"La Volpe has been hunting for you," the man said. "He wants to ask you to join him."

"Is that why you're here?" Neutral questions, until she could ascertain where his loyalties lay.

"Yes and no," he grinned again, displaying rows of badly kept teeth. "He wanted someone to track you down and propose an alliance. I volunteered, because I know who you really are." His grin was starting to look suspiciously like a leer.

Faustina had been quite careful with who she worked for. Only a few of her contacts knew who she was, and none of those who knew her loyalties knew her name. La Volpe had just moved into the city. She was caught in an agony of indecision. Was thinking he could have found her Templar ties overestimating his capabilities? Yes, it was. The rumors stemmed from Florence, where La Volpe had likely lived his whole life. There were similar tales about Faustina in Roma, and she was nothing more than a mortal.

"Oh?" she said. It still wasn't clear if he wanted to help or harm her.

"I got contacted by one of our mutual allies and told that you were being sent to spy on the old fox," he said. "I figured I would help. I have been making sure Volpe's attention has been drawn elsewhere, and he hasn't found out about your search for him."

"What do you want?" she asked warily. Accepting he was on her side was one thing. But people did not go out of their way to help others for altruistic reasons, especially on missions like these.

"Only to help our cause," his eyes shone with patriotic fervor.

"So you came here… to warn me," she took a step to the side of him, putting herself both between him and the exit and closer to escape. Faustina once again had the higher ground.

The other thief didn't even seem to notice her change in position, besides spinning to face her again. Combat seemed to be far from his mind. "Yes. And to help you."

She waited. When he didn't elaborate, she asked "How exactly?"

He prodded the corpse. "Well, I figure you have two options that wouldn't blow the fact you are a Templar. Accepting Volpe's offer, or disappearing. In a permanent way, if you get my meaning. You or I could arrange for some guards to come, and burn this dump down. I investigate, and find Faustina Collari burned with it."

_Oh._ The corpse made sense now. She relaxed a bit. She might have a madman on her hands, but he wasn't a completely crazed madman.

**A/N: Considering what little characterization Paganino gets is stabbing himself to death to protect Borgia secrets... I characterized him as slightly crazy. Perhaps more than slightly.**


	3. Templars and Wine

**A/N: Spot the hint.**

Faustina smiled, an expression that was only half faked. This was either a very good turn of events, or a terrible one.

"So you want to help me- can you stall La Volpe?" she asked, her tone practically a purr. She was not good at the art Fiora and Garnette practiced to get close to their targets, but she didn't need to be for this man. He seemed already infatuated with something far more intoxicating than her meager assets. "I have another assignment I need to finish first. I was just gathering a bit of information in advance."

None of that was true, of course. What she really was intending to do was to investigate this man, to see if he truly was who he said. If he wasn't… she would have made a serious mistake.

So she needed to keep him away from La Volpe while she investigated. While at the same time getting him to keep La Volpe from getting suspicious.

"Of course," he nodded, a gleam in his eyes.

"You have an advantage over me," she said, shooting another glance at the corpse. _And then there is the matter of whether I should accept La Volpe's offer and spy on him like that, or pretend to die and then join him some other way._ "You know my name, but I don't know yours."

Both options had their good points. The first would be easier, and take less time, but she would run the risk of the thief assassin hearing of her Templar connections. If she joined his Guild, she could use a different identity, but it would take far longer to work her way up to a position where she would hear anything of use. Besides, the Thieves' Guild was comprised mostly of men. IT wasn't plausible to hide her femininity for that long, and as a woman thief she would stand out. If she joined it as an already established power, her gender would get far less comment. The Templars and Assassins both had little qualms with women doing what would generally be considered men's jobs, if they were useful.

"Paganino," he said. "I can tell Volpe I couldn't find you yet, but that I was narrowing down the trail."

"No," she considered. "Leave a message for La Volpe, saying that your query, Faustina Collari, had business in another city and left early this morning, and that you are following. You will confront her on the road, on her way back, far from the city. It is a stroke of luck that she is leaving Roma for a few days- it will allow you to talk to her where you won't be interrupted, and where neither of you has the high ground. Then leave the city, as if you are following me. Travel for about two days, and then come back. Wait outside the city for me in three days. I will be waiting, and we can ride into the city together. As if you have convinced me, and I am ready to ally with the Assassins."

He nodded. "An apt plan."

Yes. It would give her enough time to evaluate things. If worse came to worse, if she discovered he was an assassin spy, she could ambush him before he returned to Roma.

There was still the matter of the corpse. For a moment she wondered who the girl had been. From her scanty outfit and well-brushed hair Faustina would guess a courtesan. That hair looked like it had been her pride and joy. The thief ran a hand through her own tangled mop, and surpressed a shiver. A courtesan's death hardly mattered- they were allied with the assassins, after all.

A death in vain was a pity, however.

(((((((((((((())))))))))))))

Paganino disposed of the body, dumping her unceremoniously in an alley, and they headed off to send the message to La Volpe. Faustina watched him like a hawk when he penned the note, making sure he didn't slip any additional information in it. He didn't, as far as she could see. Of course you could never rule out the possibility of code. But her abilities only extended so far, and this was the best solution she could think of.

The other thief procured a horse and supplies, and left the city. She climbed the walls and watched him until he disappeared from sight, to make sure he was going the way she had told him to. Luckily, he did.

She returned to her main hideout, taking a randabout route around the rooftops. She wouldn't return to the hideout where she met Paganino until she could verify he was who he said he was- even then, she would abandon it as soon as her dealings with him ended. The fewer people who knew the locations of her homes the better.

There was another surprise waiting for her in this hideout, but it was a far better one. A small piece of paper was resting on the table in the center of the room. Drawn on it in red ink was a crane resting on a short sword.

The Thief laughed. She knew what it meant- it was an invitation. The Dama Rossa often used a crane to represent herself, and no doubt Rocco had sent her to leave the message for Faustina. His mercenaries would have a hard time tracking the Thief down.

It was a tradition that had happened almost by accident, a year or so before.

((((((((((())))))))))))

Faustina slipped into the room. The Dama Rossa was seated at the table, her elegant fingers curled around the base of a wine glass. A smile was curling the edges of her mouth, and her cheeks held the hint of a flush from the alcohol. But the Thief could spot the wariness hidden in her posture, and in the way her right hand played with her hair.

Garnette met her gaze, and blinked slyly, making the slightest of gestures towards the man seated opposite from her. He had his back to Faustina. Faustina crept forward, and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, and hand going for the short sword at his belt.

"Don't," the Dama Rossa's voice carried just a hint of a threat. "She is one of those I brought for you."

Faustina stepped into the light, and slipped her scissor blade back into her sleeve. She wasn't sure what sort of game Garnette was playing here, only that she was to play a part.

The man was tall and broad shouldered. His face and hands were scarred from countless fights. His expertise with weapons was obvious in the way he held himself. He rose and took a step towards her. "You are the information broker." He shot a glance at Garnette. "I had heard you were neutral."

Faustina tensed, but replied smoothly "Things are not always as they seem."

"So I know," he returned to his seat. "Do tell me more."

((((()))))

Faustina, and the other Templar the Dama Rossa had brought the mercenary leader had both refused recruitment. Garnette had declined as well, stating that she preferred the relative stability and morality of a cause. But he had invited them to his base again, a few months later, and soon it had become a tradition. It was a rare opportunity for the Templar agents to trade information without fear of eavesdropping.

The Mercenary, Rocco Tiepolo, guffawed when he saw her. Faustina had stolen a costume from the Hellequin. Being seen in her Thief rig paying a visit to the Templar-allied mercenaries would be counterproductive.

"So this is one of the illustrious killers you promised to bring to my table, my dear Dama," he scrutinized Faustina. "I have heard tale of a hellequin who forwards the Templar agenda. Are you she, signora?"

Faustina laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, Rocco." With a flourish, she took off her borrowed mask.

He didn't look disappointed. "Ah, Faustina. Take a seat," he gestured at the two empty seats at the table.

The Thief smiled, and slid into her seat. They played this game each time. Rocco invited them to his home to try to recruit them to his mercenaries. He collected mercenaries like some men collected fine weapons or jewels. Each time, they would refuse. It was becoming a mere formality, and excuse to get together for drinks.

Cesare did not appreciate it if too many of his Templars formed an alliance.

It wasn't long before the fourth member of their little congregation joined them. Unlike Faustina, she allowed herself to be escorted in by one of Rocco's mercenaries.

Lia de Russo, the Smuggler, drew back her head after she sat down. Without waiting for an invitation, she poured herself a glass of wine. "Garnette, Faustina, Rocco. Surprised none of you have gotten yourself killed," she said gruffly, and took a swallow of the wine.

An unusual assembly. But Rocco was keen on the Templar tradition of ignoring gender to serve their purposes, and wanted to expand his ranks of female fighters. He had made Garnette's acquaintance, and Garnette had brought him Lia and Faustina.

After their group had been established, Faustina had never thought to invite any of the other Templars. She didn't trust any of the others. These three… she could stand to be in the same room with without her scissor blade. As long as they were unequipped with weapons, of course. Hypothetically. You would be hard pressed to find a Templar agent who would be parted with his or her signature weapon.

The Dama Rossa she trusted enough to let the other woman hold a blade to her throat. The other two… Rocco was business minded, and Lia was more than a bit insane. They weren't involved in the Borgia politics, however. For Rocco, masters came and went. There was no need to get involved in their affairs. For Lia… As far s she could tell, Lia cared only for her treasure hunting and her ship. And killing.

They all enjoyed killing.

"Indeed," Garnette sipped her wine, her wealthy background showing through in every gesture. "It would be rather dull if one of use were missing. Especially if it were permanent."

"Today was not profitable," Rocco gloomily refilled his cup. "Cesare commissioned thirty more of my mercenaries. The last fifty he sent out never returned."

"Cesare views all flesh and blood as immaterial," Lia ran a finger over the rim of her cup. "You should hardly be surprised." She grimaced. "He neglected to pay me for the last artifacts I delivered."

"Paid me alright," Garnette said. "Perhaps you didn't complete your job to satisfaction?"

The question was arched, but Lia only laughed.

"The Borgia seem to be losing their hold on the city, slowly," Rocco observed. "If I were you three, I would be worried."

Faustina glanced around. Cesare has ears everywhere, as she knew as one of his spies. It was dangerous to speak against him so openly. No doubt Rocco assumed he was safe, in his own base surrounded by his mercenaries… perhaps he was. But she wouldn't stake her life on it.

Garnette waved a hand dismissively. "The Assassins won't succeed. They can only get so far if their only tactic is killing their political enemies."

Lia nodded. "They will never gain enough support."

Rocco snorted. "Are you blind? Look at how the Assassins are hailed on the streets as saviors."

"The Assassins," Faustina spoke up. "Will eventually be forced to kill someone that the public likes, if they are to continue their campaign. Besides, support of the common people means little. They can't kill all the aristocracy. And Rodrigo is the _pope_. With a Templar in that position, it would be difficult to get anywhere." She paused. "All the same, they are making an enormous effort to get this city under their control." She thought of her recent loss of customers and contacts.

Rocco shrugged. "My offer of employment still stands, signoras. If the Assassins do take over, I am sure that they will have work for my men."

"They have mercenaries of their own," Faustina pointed out.

"Mercenaries are one of those things you can never have enough of," Rocco chuckled. His confidence was unshakeable, it seemed. "Even if they get nowhere, they seem determined to eliminate Templars like you three. I have heard at least one of your Order has already been dealt with."

Garnette and Faustina exchanged a wary glance, just a second's eyes contact.

"Il Carnefice was an idiot," Lia scoffed. "You can't do your killing out in the open like that without presenting your enemies with an easy target."

The Dama Rossa nodded. "He was merely to make the common people afraid. A rather worthless brute."

Faustina agree absently, but her mind was elsewhere. If worse came to worse, she supposed she might be pressed to accept Rocco's offer. However, she wouldn't make a good mercenary. She felt no qualms killing, but preferred spying and stealing to outright murder.

Besides, she wouldn't abandon the Templar cause. The Assassins might present themselves as vigilantes championing the downtrodden, but she would never forget the atrocities she had seen them commit. They had killed her brother without any provocation, and continued to do it to many others. Their targets weren't always Templars. Too often she heard of targets they just killed out of pettiness, or cruelty.

Garnette as well would be reluctant to leave the Order. Though she hadn't ever been affected so directly by the assassins, she had seen their bloody work often enough. The Templars were far from perfect, but what would the country come to if men whose only method of problem solving was killing the problem took over?

Rocco seemed to have given up on recruiting them for now. "Anyway, how have you been?"

Lia refilled her glass. "My new crew is comprised of incompetent idiots and boys who have never been to sea in their life. In the last run, I had one who nearly outright told the cargo inspector that we had contraband. Had to give him a friendly _poke_ to shut him up." She laughed.

Faustina fiddled with the buttons on her overcoat, and wondered how many of her crew Lia had killed in the past.

"Did that seal I gave your come in any use?" Garnette asked.

The smuggler nodded. "It did. You must have killed a well-connected man." She took a small signet ring from her pocket, and put it down on the tablet. The signet beaten into the metal was a crane in mid flight.

The Dama Rossa snatched the ring. "It wouldn't have worked if he was dead. But I did a favor for him once." For a moment she seemed unusually flustered, but settled back to her normal expression quickly. "How about you Faustina? Was that disguise just for amusement, or have you already succeeded in sneaking into the fox's den?"

The thief laughed. "Actually, I have question about that. Have you ever run across a man called Paganino?"

Garnette shook her head, but Lia spoke up "I have. He procured the blueprints for this for me," she gestured at her weapon. Like the assassins' weapons, it was a blade that extended from the wrist. Unlike the hidden blades they used, this one was far too bulky to be hidden under a bracer. "Stole them from that inventors' workshop."

That was a start. "He works as a spy on the assassins, correct?"

The smuggler nodded. "Yeah. He's easy enough to use, if he knows you are a Templar. But I wouldn't be too surprised if he has an agenda of his own."

Faustina would have to agree there. Such people were unpredictable, and often had hidden depths. However this meant he could probably be trusted as far as helping her infiltrate the Thieves' Guild. After that, she might have to get rid of him.


	4. Poisoner

**A/N: So originally I was planning to have more Volpe in this chapter, but Lucrezia kind of hijacked it. Sorry!**

**Also, I may have lied about no pairings. There will probably some Dama Rossa/Prowler later on, but it won't come in or effect the plot for a while. Mostly that no pairings thing is up to let people no I'm not pairing Volpe and Faustina.**

**Also, I am doing a bit of an illustration/cover thing for this story, and have a bit of an animal motif thing. Which animal do you think fits Faustina best, magpie, rat, or mink? Or something else?**

Faustina woke. Sunlight was filtering through the dusty window of her hideout. She groaned, and rolled over. In her muddled state, she forgot to take into account how narrow her bed was, and rolled straight off of it.

The blanket intertwined with her softened the landing a bit, but it was overall not the manner in which she would have wanted to start the day.

She pushed herself off the floor, threw the blanket back on the bed, and stumbled over to the dresser. A slight headache was pulsating behind her eyes, no doubt a product of the previous night. Getting drunk was a poor decision, admittedly, but she hadn't been more than tipsy. And with the paranoia that was always with her, the times when she was drunk were the only times she could relax.

Faustina rubbed her temples, trying to assuage the ache, and then when that failed fumbled into her customary clothing. She ran a hand through her hair, and combed it into a semi-presentable state. Presentation didn't matter so much as ability, in her line of work.

She checked to make sure she had her weapons and tools, and then left the hideout, heading towards the Castelo San'Angelo.

Her mission was first to spy on La Volpe, find out exactly his role in the Assassin Order. To gain his trust, and the support of his thieves. And then to do away with him, as quietly as possible. In some way that would be mistaken for natural causes, or an accident. Of course being an Assassin, it would not be odd if he was murdered. But then the other assassins would stop at nothing to find and kill the killer.

Ezio Auditore had overturned the governments of whole cities to enact his revenge upon his family's killers. Adding more fuel to the fire was tempting, as strikes made out of anger were less likely to be carefully planned, but revenge seemed to only make the assassin more focused. Besides, if La Volpe were murdered, no doubt any newcomers would fall under suspicion.

She had no desire to be hunted by the Auditores again. Once in her life was bad enough.

Poison would be the best method. For poison, she could either seek out Malfatto, the Templar doctor, or Lucrezia Borgia. Of course poisons could be purchased off the streets from any _dottore_, but along with the other thieves and the courtesans they seemed to have cast their lot in with the Assassins. Many wouldn't give her a second glance as long as she paid them handsomely, but dealing with them still ran the risk of being exposed.

She disliked doctors in general, anyway. Living on the streets from an early age had taught her that vulnerability had to be done away with, or you would be crushed by someone else stronger than you. By the nature of their jobs, doctors saw everyone at their weakest. Oaths or not it seemed all too easy to imagine them slipping one of their long syringes into a patient's neck to silence them permanently, for the price of a few coins.

This dislike probably also stemmed from the half-forgotten days, back when she had lived with her brother and parents in the rooms above her father's tailor shop. _Dottores_ had only drained their money, and done nothing to slow the illness that had first taken her father, and then her mother. Besides, their remedies seemed to be lethal as often as they were helpful.

Malfatto was only somewhat better. At least she knew he was a murderer. No hidden malice there, only very real scientific curiosity. Such a harmless sounding phrase, but he took it to extremes. The doctor seemed to have no concept of morality, or indeed of why his patients would be rather unhappy to be cut open and experimented upon.

Going to him for medical treatment would be suicide, but he could probably provide poison. The problem was it was difficult to drag more than a sentence or two from that expressionless mask, and his love of experimentation would probably prompt him to give her an untested poison. There were enough unknown variables in this mission already.

Lucrezia Borgia, on the other hand, was a very experienced poison master. With an intellect as sharp as Cesare's and a penchant for toxic substances, Faustina was sure the woman had helped along her brother's rise to power quite a bit. Faustina had met her, when Cesare called her before him. Those occasions were rare, as he preferred to let Baltasar or Fiora act as the liaison between him and the Templar agents. However Lucrezia had also used her to watch her various lovers, make sure they didn't stray.

Cesare's sister was suspicious of the women who worked for him, but she seemed to tolerate Faustina well enough. The thief was nowhere near competition to Lucrezia's remarkable beauty, and wasn't a seductress in the least. So Lucrezia wouldn't order her killed the moment she disturbed her.

Getting her to give Faustina a vial of poison, well that was another matter.

She wanted the Assassins gone as much as Cesare, but she was far too wily to just hand over what Faustina wanted. Lucrezia would probably demand a favor, at the very least. Or she would just outright refuse. Faustina sighed. Dealing with aristocrats was difficult.

The thief was glad she at least hadn't brushed her hair that morning, or even washed her face. The grubbier she looked, the younger she looked. She would rather be seen as a street urchin than run the risk of Lucrezia accusing her of being Cesare's consort. She wasn't sure how Fiora had escaped the woman's wrath- though she suspected Fiora was just as capable as the Borgia lady. Nevetheless, if Lucrezia wanted something she would get it.

It was easy enough to get into the Castel San'Angelo. The guards stepped aside for a few coins. They had seen her here before. Though Faustina tried to maintain a façade of neutrality, she never tried to deny that she did do deals with the Borgia family. No doubt La Volpe would have questions about that. She would protest that she had just been trying to make a living, and that it had been a reluctant alliance at best.

More guards lined the halls up to Lucrezia's quarters, but these men were the more experienced, smarter guards. They didn't try to stop her or ask for a bribe, only gave her suspicious glares that said they would kill her if she put a toe out of line. Faustina ignored them.

Lucrezia was home. Faustina paused outside the door of her chambers. She could hear the woman shouting at one of her maids. Accusing her of sneaking glances at Cesare. The usual.

It probably would have been more intelligent to come back later, but Faustina had no time to lose. She knocked on the door, three sharp raps.

From behind the door, there was a muted scream. Not Lucrezia.

The thief glanced around, doing her damnedest to ignore the sounds from within the noblewoman's chambers. The walls were lavishly adorned with tapestries, spun gold thread framing the Borgia crest against dark crimson. She could see the Templar cross woven into the pattern as well, so cleverly implemented that only someone who knew what they were looking for would find it.

On the other side of the hall, portraits stared at her with empty eyes. Previous poepes, dukes, duchesses, and other nobles.

Just as Faustina was going to risk knocking again, Lucrezia called "Come in."

Faustina pushed the door open, and looked warily into the room, hand poised to snatch her scissor blade. Lucrezia was seated on a chair, looking perfectly composed. In her hand was an elegant fan, each slat tipped with sharp metal. Besides her a handmaiden was kneeling, her hands pressed to her face. Blood seeped through her fingers.

The thief's gut twisted, but not for the unfortunate serving girl. The fan looked just like Fiora's. She took a step into the room, but left the door open behind her. When Lucrezia turned to look at her, she bowed deeply. Curtseying was something she would not stoop to.

Lucrezia wiped the fan on the sobbing serving girl's dress, and then closed it with a_ snap_. "Faustina," she said coolly.

"My lady," Faustina bowed again.

"I didn't think I gave you an assignment," the noblewoman said irritably, setting the fan on the table beside her. "Adelina, go prepare tea. For myself and this… woman." She nudged the maid with her foot.

The woman wiped blood and tears off her face, and scurried off. Faustina's gaze was drawn to the fan again. She didn't particularly like Fiora, but it would bode ill for her if Lucrezia had had a Templar agent killed.

Lucrezia noticed her stare. She picked up the fan again, and snapped it open. "Pretty, isn't it?" She fluttered it coyly. "I had one made for myself. My brother's whore has one, and I have seen how _useful_ they can be."

Faustina nodded hurriedly.

"Now what do you want?" the noblewoman snapped.

"Forgive me, my lady," Faustina said. "I have heard of your expertise with poisons. I am on a mission for our cause, and I am in need of a slow-acting poison."

"Oh?" Lucrezia's eyes narrowed slyly. "That is what _dottores_ are for. I am not some common craftsman, to be commissioned."

"Of course not," Faustina said. "However, my mission is discrete. The _dottores_ are allied with the assassins, and usually their poisons are far from reliable anyway. Yours, on the other hand… well, you have perfected the art."

This comment seemed to placate Lucrezia slightly. She relaxed, and motioned to the other chair. "Sit down, Faustina."

The thief did as bid, sitting down stiffly. Her eyes darted once more to the fan, and then around the room.

Lucrezia laughed, an unsurprisingly bell like sound. "As usual, you are as nervous as a caged rat. Missing your rooftops already? You are far too much like those assassins." Faustina noticed her tone was almost wistful, instead of contemptuous. "Who do you need this poison for?"

It was Faustina's turn to smile. "A fox, my lady."

"A fox…" Lucrezia seemed to consider. "Very well." She stood up, but motioned for Faustina to remain seated. "What sort of poison?"

"The sort that will kill slowly, appear to be a natural illness, or perhaps age," she replied.

Her view was partially obscured by Lucrezia's voluminous dress, but she saw the woman pull a chest from out of her dresser. The Templar insignia was carved into the dark wood. Lucrezia's long fingers roamed over the collection of vials inside, until she plucked out a vial full of gray white powder.

She returned to her seat, and handed the thief the vial. "That is a sort of arsenic. You will need to give it to your victim continuously over a long period of time, or all at once for an immediate and rather unsubtle death. The smaller the doses, the more naturally it will seem to develop."

"Thank you," Faustina started to get to her feet. A glare forced her to remain seated.

"Anything for my brother's cause," Lucrezia purred. "Of course, I will require a service in return."

Faustina tensed, hoping the Borgia woman would merely want an errand run to one of her numerous lovers. Something that could be accomplished quickly, before she had to go meet with Paganino.

"I do not have anything at present," Lucrezia seemed to be relishing the thief's discomfort. Her maidservant re-entered the room, carrying a tray laden with teacups and assorted pastries. She set the tray down on the table. "But you are a resourceful woman. Having you owe me a favor will come in handy. Do have some tea."

Faustina took one of the cups, and contemplated the milky liquid.

_Perfected the art of poisons._

The vial of poison felt heavy in her hand. She tucked it into her sleeve, and then slowly, deliberately, picked up a spoon from the tray and scooped up a spoonful of sugar from the bowl. She mixed this into her tea, watching the crystals melt away. She could feel Lucrezia's eyes boring into her.

Faustina met her gaze, and drank.

It was bitter, surprisingly bitter despite the milk, but the bitterness was offset by the sugar.

Lucrezia made a small sound that could have been approval. She continued to watch Faustina, not touching her own cup.

The thief finished the tea as quickly as she could, and then rose. "Thank you for your hospitality and your assistance, my lady." She bowed, letting none of her growing panic show on her face.

The noblewoman nodded, and dismissed her with a flick of her hand. "Remember, you owe me thief."

As soon as she was out of the Castel San'Angelo Faustina took off running. She ran and scaled a building, crouching at the top until her racing heart slowed. She waited there for several minutes. The sick feeling in her stomach slowly faded, nothing more than a byproduct of fear. She breathed a sigh of relief.

If she had been poisoned, running would be far from the logical option, unless she wanted to speed along death. But her default reaction to fear was always flight. Always self preservation. She took another deep breath, and stood up. The weight in her sleeve reminded her that she had a job to do.

(((((((((((())))))))))))

Two mornings later, she met Paganino a few miles outside Roma. They rode together into the city, speaking little. The guards let them by without a second glance.

Paganino led her into one of the foulest slums of Roma, populated by cheap courtesans and more cutpurses than there were purses to cut. Roma didn't know that particular corner all that well. It was the territory of Malfatto, and she would go to great lengths to avoid him.

La Volpe didn't know of the Templar doctor, it seemed. He had set his headquarters in an old building, which looked like it once had been an inn. Paganino dismounted, and she did likewise, tying her horse to a post that stood outside the building.

A man was standing in the doorway, discussing something in low tones with two others. Like Paganino, these two wore the drab green-gray uniforms of the thieves. The man in the doorway wore much different attire. His face was mostly concealed with a cowl, and he wore a long leather cloak. A narrow sword hung at his belt.

When he looked up to greet them, Faustina noticed his eyes were a startling shade of purple. _La Volpe._

One of the myths was real. She could only hope that didn't hold true with the others.


	5. Alliances and Debts

**A/N: I made a cover illustration for this fanfic, because I had spare time and metallic markers http: / corvidthief. deviantart . com/art/A- Thief-and-A-Coward-Cover-2 88271169 (remove the spaces). You can also find an illustration for my other story, Petals Under Eagle Talons, on that dA account.**

"Faustina Collari," La Volpe looked her over with those strange eyes. She held his gaze. One of the Assassin leaders or not, as thieves they were on the same level. And Roma was her territory. "I take it you have accepted my offer of alliance."

She glanced at Paganino, and then nodded. "Yes."

"Your reputation precedes you," he motioned for the thieves he had been talking to go about their business. They hurried off, and Paganino followed.

"As does yours," Faustina replied.

"I have heard that you were neutral," he said. "You seem easily swayed to the Assassin cause."

"Before, I didn't know much about Templars or Assassins," she said. "I had heard of the assassinations, yes, but I rarely venture from this city. This is the Borgia stronghold, and up until recently I thought that either the Assassins were merely myths cobbled together out of unconnected acts of vigilantism, or their power was far exaggerated. The Templars… well, I merely took it for an eccentricity of Rodrigo to call his agents after a long-dead Order."

"For someone who deals in rumors, you seem lacking crucial information," he said. His voice let on none of what he was thinking. Faustina cursed silently.

"I had no desire to end up with a knife in my back," she replied carefully. "The Assassins seem to have gained power quickly in this city. Anyone who gets too curious seems to meet a bad end."

"I have no use for alliances with cowards," La Volpe said,

"It's pragmatism," she said. "Sooner or later, everyone who comes to this city seeks me out. I had no wish to call undue attention to myself."

"So you could continue selling information to the Borgias?" he asked.

It was good that her cover personality would be just as surprised to be called out on that, because Faustina couldn't stop the shock was flashing across her face. She clamped down on the emotion, and said "No, though I will admit to having dealings with them. As you said, until now I have been neutral."

"So what made you change your mind?" he sounded more musing than accusing.

"Your subordinate made some very good points," she let her shoulders slump, dropped her gaze to the ground, and put a bit of regret into her tone. "The possibility of getting rid of the Borgias… didn't occur to me. Plus, I heard some interesting rumors about the Assassin's deeds on my excursion." She looked up again, a small smile creeping onto her face. "Perhaps the Assassins will succeed. You certainly have half the city at your command already."

He studied her for a minute, as if not sure of what to make of the thief. "Very well. It will be useful to have someone who knows the city so well." He motioned for her to follow him into the ramshackle building.

The inside of was only marginally better than the outside. Sunlight filtered throough the boarded up windows, glinting off a stack of weapons in one corner. A group of people sat around an overturned crate, playing some sort of game of chance. When La Volpe walked into the room, they all quieted and turned to look at him.

Some of the thieves she recognized from the streets of Roma, but most she had never seen before. There was a range of ages and ethnic backgrounds, but they were all men, and all dressed in similar drab uniforms.

Faustina hung back behind La Volpe. Even with her scruffy hair and dusty vest, she felt like she stood out a mile. It was an uncomfortable, unfamiliar feeling. The Templars had plenty of women in their ranks.

La Volpe glanced at her, and she could have sworn she saw a flash of amusement cross his features. "This is Faustina Collari."

It appeared they needed no explanation of what she was. They all nodded, and turned back to their game.

"So, Signora Collari," La Volpe said. "Do you know of the group of thieves that call themselves Cento Occhi?"

Lanz's gang. Faustina nodded. "I have had some dealings with them, but mostly they keep to themselves. Cento Occhi is where the brutes end up, those that murder for amusement and rob from people who don't have anything worth stealing." Once Lanz had been one of those people, but he had taken to thievery, like Faustina and Adrian. Fiora had coerced him into joining the Templars a few months before.

Faustina preferred to stay away from Cento Occhi, and they only sought her out on the rare occasion they needed information from an outside source. She had no particular opinion on Lanz himself. He was a bloodthirsty murderer, yes, but so were all the Templar agents. If he had to cros him to gain La Volpe's trust, that would be acceptable. No doubt Cesare could coerce or bribe the other leaders of the gang.

"The Thieves guild has an unwritten agreement with the populace," La Volpe said. "We don't steal from the poor, and they don't call the guards down on us. The gangs of Roma make the streets more dangerous for everyone by stealing indiscriminately, killing and wreaking havoc."

She nodded. "It may be worse than that. I have heard one of their leaders is allied with the Templars."

"Oh?" he looked at her intently. "This is news indeed. How did that come about?"

"I've heard that they tried to rob the Papal coach," Faustina said. "One of their leaders left his knife behind. A Templar agent tracked him down, and Cesare had him blackmailed into joining the Templars."

"Interesting," La Volpe considered this. "Their pattern of attacks makes more sense now. I suspected an involvement, but this is the first solid evidence. I will have my thieves look into it. Do you know where their base is?"

Faustina hesitated. "I know where a few of their smaller bases are, but not their main one." She knew exactly where their base was, but leading them on would provide a distraction, and allow her to gain La Volpe's trust.

"That is better than nothing," La Volpe glanced over at the group of thieves. "Can you lead a few of my thieves there?"

"Easily," she replied, twisting a lock of her hair between her fingers.

"Good," he said. "Maintaining the ruse that you are neutral would be useful, as the Borgia may come to you for information again. While you are on missions with my thieves you should dress like them, to avoid being recognized. I trust you can acquire these things."

Faustina nodded. "Of course. I'll get some clothes that will blend in better, and return here once they are tailored. If you want it to appear that I am still neutral, I shouldn't be leading your thieves around in this outfit. I will show you were I know Cento Occhi's smaller bases are then."

"Very well," La Volpe said, his expression unreadable.

(((())))  
>Walking back to her hideout, Faustina couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching her. She ignored it as paranoia for a block or two, but when the feeling didn't fade she began to suspect her subconscious instincts were trying to tell her something. She paused, and then turned to walk towards a tailor's shop, while subtly scanning the rooftops.<p>

_There._ A shadow edged to the roof over the tailor's shop. She sidestepped behind a passing group of horsemen, out of her follower's line of sight, and then scrambled up the side of an alcove in the building. She flattened herself to the stone as she climbed, glad for her dark colored clothing.

By the time she pulled herself up onto the roof, she knew her pursuer must have seen her. She jumped onto the archway that hung over the streets, and sprinted across it to where the spy was crouched. It was a young man, dressed in the uniform of the thieves. He started to run, but in his haste stumbled and almost lost his footing on the roof.

Faustina caught his collar just in time, bringing his sliding fall to an abrupt stop. He choked, but hung still, not wanting to break her hold and fall to his death. She dragged him back onto the more level part of the roof in the same manner as a mother cat might drag a disobedient kitten. "So La Volpe doesn't quite trust his new ally."

The boy couldn't have been older than sixteen. His face was pale from his close call, and his eyes were wide. "I… uh…"

She smirked. "Next time you are tailing someone, try not to be so obvious. I am surprised La Volpe sent someone so unskilled."

The thief raised his hands, as if to ward off a blow. "Please, he only wanted to make sure gave no more information to the Borgias, or warned the Cento Occhi!" His shoulders slumped. "He was fairly sure you wouldn't. Which is why he sent me."

_Well, that answers my question._ Faustina let go of the boy's collar, and took a step back. "So, he sent you to make sure I wasn't double-crossing him. Anything else?"

"He wanted to know the locations of your hideouts, if you had any more," the boy said quickly. "It is only fair, considering you know ours."

"I do not know where the Assassins' base of operations is," she pointed out.

He cringed. "I was only following orders. Who am I to question La Volpe?" He hesitated. "Please do not tell him you spotted me."

She chuckled. "Why are you so afraid?" she was genuinely curious. La Volpe was hard to read. This boy was much easier, like an open book. Perhaps through him she could get some insight on his master. If his thieves were so afraid of him, it certainly said something about his leadership.

The hapless thief shifted uncomfortably, and didn't respond.

"Does La Volpe punish failings like Cesare, then?" she queried.

"No! No of course not," he stare down at his shoes. "I… er… it is only that my father has been a thief all his life. He expects me to become one as well. I… I'm just not very good at it, and I don't want him to hear that I potentially risked an alliance with my clumsiness…"

She laughed. "Alright, I won't tell." It wasn't her business if La Volpe had an incompetent thief. And it might serve to her advantage to have a thief in her debt. "What's your name?"

"Claudio," he mumbled.

"I'm Faustina, but you already know that," she smiled. "You can walk with me- I am merely going to go to a tailor, and then to one of my hideouts. No point risking your neck up here, since I already spotted you.

"V-Very well," he sounded all too grateful not to have to stay up on the hazardous rooftops.

"Come on, than," she spotted a stack of hay piled right next to the tailor shop, and jumped down into it. The soft straw cushioned her fall, and she rolled smoothly out of it.

Claudio eyed her incredulously from his perch on the roof, and then began carefully climbing down the wall.

Once he was down, she walked towards the tailor shop. This particular tailor was an ally of the Borgia agents, and often helped them with their disguises. He would not question why she was with one of La Volpe's thieves. Cesare's coin had bought his ignorance to anything involving the Templars.

Entering the tailor's shop, Faustina felt herself relax. It felt like stepping into the past, a happier, brighter time. Her father's tailor shop had been similar, as far as she could remember. One of her earliest memories was sitting at her father's feet, watching transfixed as he sewed together the edges of a guard's damaged uniform. Her mother had sat behind him, embroidering a design on a gown. They had reached for the scissors at the same time, the same pair of scissors her brother and her had split. The pair from which her scissor blade had been taken- the blade that had stolen nearly as many lives as the Thief had stolen purses.

Her reverie was broken when the tailor, a rather unpleasant little man, barked "Faustina! What brings you here today?"

"Jon, I would like a set of clothes like this boy has on," Faustina gestured at Claudio.

The tailor looked Claudio up and down. "Easy," he pursed his lips. "I will not make you suffer the indignity of asking if you have the money to pay for them. You always have money, though I doubt it is often yours." Cesare's bribes did not count towards silencing insults.

Faustina allowed herself to be measured, and then as agreed gave the tailor half the payment in advance. It would take him a day or so to sew the clothing, though she had given him a substantial amount to hasten the process. She hurried back outside, Claudio on her heels.

"I've heard that man has ties with the Borgias," he said.

She shrugged. "He makes good clothing. I used to be neutral, remember? But don't speak of things like that out on the street- too many ears."

Claudio glanced around guiltily. "Sorry."

"Just don't do it again."

She led him back to the same hideout Paganino had caught her in. She had plans to abandon it, but for now it would function as the home La Volpe knew she had. It would be better if he didn't find out the others. Caluio expressed disappointment over the fact she didn't show him any of her other hideouts, to which she laughed and replied that everyone needed their secrets.

"Besides," she said. "There could very well be Templar spy among Volpe's thieves, and then I would have no place to run."

Faustina dropped down into the hideout. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a splash of red on her dresser- a note bearing the Dama Rossa's symbol. She quickly snatched it and shoved it into her sleeve before Claudio could drop into the hideout.

Once the young thief had entered the room, she gestured around. "See? I did not visit a single Templar, nor did I do any deals with the Borgias. Go back to La Volpe and make your report."

**A/N: Claudio is that thief that Ezio has to escort back to La Volpe after they were eavesdropping on Machiavelli.**


	6. Templars Can't Swim

**A/N: Vandal- More Lanz in this chapter, and certainly more of him to come. On your question on the length- I would estimate around thirty thousand to fifty thousand words. I am just starting to get into the main plot, and I have most of it all planned out.**

**Thanks for the review guys, they really make my day! **

Once Claudio was gone, Faustina took the note from her sleeve and smoothed out the crumpled paper. Her eyes skimmed the red ink.

_ F-_

_Can I borrow a set of lock picks?_

_ -G_

Beneath the cursive _G _there was the familiar crane sign. Faustina smiled. The Dama Rossa knew of her paranoia, and had told her of the sign when they first became friends, to assuage her fears of falsified communications. The crane symbol was something close to Garnette, connected to her life before coming to Italy and becoming the Dama Rossa, though how exactly it tied to her Faustina didn't know. Garnette had never explained, and the Thief had no wish to jeopardize their friendship by prying.

The smile quickly faded from her features when she remembered La Volpe knew of this hideout. Had he sent thieves to search here in her absence? What if they had seen the note? A quick search of the room found everything in the same condition she had left it and no signs of intruders. She had a particular order to how she arranged things that made it unlikely anyone could have searched the room without leaving evidence behind.

Still, not impossible. The note had been out in the open, so no search was needed to uncover that bit of information. She relaxed slightly. Even if they had seen the note, it was unlikely the thieves could gather that she was a Templar or connected with the Dama Rossa from it.

Uncertainty was dangerous, but it seemed nowadays there were little solid facts. She sighed. Good guesses would have to work for now. She started a fire in the small hearth and burned the note. Ordinarily she would have left another, along with the lock picks Garnette had requested, so the Dama Rossa would get them the next time she visited the hideout. This hideout wasn't safe anymore though, and she had to tell Garnette that.

Faustina switched into a less distinctive outfit, a finer faded red overcoat with a higher collar and puffed sleeves, slashed to show off the brown fabric beneath. Now that she was one of Cesare's agents, she had enough money to buy multiple sets of clothes, a luxury she hadn't known before, even in her earlier years in the Templar Order. It still felt odd.

She added a round hat to the ensemble to cover her hair, and a short cloak. When she was finished dressing a much different person seemed to stare back at her from the polished metal of her looking glass. A bit closer to the sculpted ladies who graced Cesare's court, and almost nothing like the ragged orphan Baltasar had plucked off the streets years before.

Faustina smirked, and climbed out of her hideout. She dropped down to the haystack below, and set off across town. The Dama Rossa usually stayed in a small inn in corner of town populated mostly by craftsmen and workers. There was little conflict in the neighborhood, bar occasional drunken scuffles and attacks by the Cento Ochi.

It wasn't the best place to go in and out unnoticed in the middle of the night, but Garnette was fixed in her ways. It often resulted in a the Dama Rossa creeping into one of Faustina's hideouts in the middle of the night, too bloodied to go back into a civilized neighborhood without attracting attention.

The streets of Roma were unusually excited. There seemed to be less of theatmsohpere of hopelessness everyone always wore like a second skin, the feeling that grew when everyone knew they could die at any moment, and that that likelihood grew larger with every passing day. Now people seemed a bit more… hopeful. Tense, but hopeful. Citizens walked from shop to shop in tight clusters talking in low tones and throwing disdainful glances at the patrolling guards.

A prickly feeling of unease tightened in her chest. Every city had its ups and downs. But this seemed far from spontaneous. Even in this relatively wealthy part of town support was shifting to the hooded vigilantes. The jarring strain and screechy taucous of a minstrel's song assaulted her ears. The song was a ballad praising the assassins. Just a few weeks before she had heard the same minstrel singing Cesare's praises.

The love of the people was fickle, but it was so much easier to romanticize those whose horrible deeds occurred in the shadows.

Faustina climbed up the side of the doctor's shop beside the inn and jumped to a ledge of one of the inn's windows. She went from ledge to ledge until she found Garnette's room. The Dama Rossa was sound asleep despite the hour. Her long red hair was fanned out across the rough pillow, for a moment creating the impression the sheets were soaked with blood.

The thief picked the flimsy lock on the window, and jumped inside. The sound of her feet hitting the floor caused Garnette to stir slightly, but her eyes didn't open. The room bore evidence of a recent mission- Garnette's coat hung on the bedpost, splattered with gore. Her lethal hairpin was on the bedside table, newly polished.

Faustina prodded the Dama Rossa, muscles tensed to spring back in case her fighting instincts caused her to lash out at a perceieved attacker. Garnette rolled over and groaned softly her eyes opening. She regarded the thief sleepily. "What do you want?"

"You're the one who wanted something," Faustina pulled her set of lock picks from her sleeve and set them beside Garnette's weapon of choice.

"Oh… thanks," Garnette pushed herself up into a half-crouch, eyeing Faustina. Her expression was a mixture of annoyance and sheepishness.

"No problem," the Thief said brightly.

The Dama Rossa sat back and ran a han through her hair wincing when her hands hit a tender spot. "The latest target had some fight in him. Nearly had to use my garrote. He would have deserved it, the bastard."

Faustina shuddered. The length or ribbon the Dama Rossa kept tied around her waist was not for show, and deceptively strong. She had seen it put to work before and had no wish to witness it again. It was a horrible way to die, and a horrible way to kill. Garnette used it only as a last resort, as the ribbon wouldn't be identified as a weapon if she were captured and stripped of her other means of defending herself.

"Lucky, then," she said.

"Don't give me that look," Garnette sighed. "I am fairly sure you have done equally terrible things."

No arguing there. Faustina nodded to concede her point.

"How goes your fox hunt?" Garnette swung her legs out of bed, and stood up. She was dressed only in her undershirt and tights.

Faustina laughed. "Well enough. It's true what they say, you know, about his eyes. They're purple."

"Fanciful indeed," Garnette grabbed another coat from the hanger, a slightly fancier version of the blood-soaked one. "Will you show me how to use those things? I know you have taught me before, but I'm rusty."

"The lockpicks? Sure," Faustina said. "Come on. I know a place where you can practice."

((((((((((()))))))))))

Lia de Russo had warehouses down by the Tiber, where she offloaded the artifacts and curiosities she procured for Cesare, hidden among her less dangerous cargoes of silk, tea, and other foreign imports. The Smuggler took great caution with the handling of her acquisitions, and had special locks made just for her warehouses. As a thief Faustina took that as a challenge. It had become a game between them. Faustina would pick the locks yet again, break into the warehouse, and take some trivial thing, leaving behind a note. Lia would get new locks.

The smuggler had probably lost more money commissioning locks than Faustina's thefts ha cost her.

It was a good place to practice lockpicking. This particular warehouse was almost right on a dock, and a bit away from the hubbub of the streets. The guards had learned to stay away from Lia after a few runs in with the smuggler, and the method Lia usually used to gain ownership of the warehouses kept everyone else away.

"_Merde_," Garnette swore, sitting back on her heel to glare at the stubborn lock.

Faustina chuckled, leaning back against the faded wood door. "Practice makes perfect."

"It's only easy for you because you were born a damned thief," Garnette snarled, jamming the picks back into the lock.

"Not like that," Faustina knelt beside the Dama Rossa and nudged her hand aside. "You have to do it gently. If you break the mechanisms inside, it'll never open." She moved the picks around in the keyhole, feeling for the tumblers and levers that the key would normally hit.

The contraption sprung open with a click.

"_Cazzo_," Garnette snatched the picks and started work on the next lock.

It took several hours, and four more of Lia's locks, but Garnette eventually got the hang of deciphering the mechanisms. By that time the sun was sinking low in the sky, and an autmn chill was beginning to seep through the city. The Dama Rossa rose from her couched position, stretching her stiff muscles, and thanked Faustina for the lesson before heading back towards the inn.

Faustina stayed. She had gotten a lot accomplished that day; why not spare time for a bit of fun? She crept cautiously into the warehouse, curious as to what peculiarities the smuggler had procured for Ceasre this time. He seemed especially interested in items that came from Jerusalem and the middle east, for reasons that weren't entirely clear to her.

Sure enough, among crates of spices and other commodities, there were far more interesting imports. A large piece of what looked like gold forged into the shape of an Ankh, an eqyptian symbol. A wooden carving of an eagle, so old that its beak had been nearly worn away. Its eyes were inlaid topaz, and they gleamed in the dim light.

She searched for something small, unimportant. She had no desire to anger Lia too much, or jeopardize the smuggler's position with Cesare.

The thief was so absorbed in her search that she didn't hear the footsteps. She stiffened at the _ching_ of a blade being pulled from its sheathe, and made to turn around.

A cold sharp edge pressed to her throat stopped her.

"_La gazza_, Faustina," a familiar voice hissed. "Always distracted by something shiny."

Lanz.

She lashed out with her foot, hoping to throw him off balance long enough to get a hold of her scissor blade. Lanz stumbled, but kept his footing, pressing the tip of his curved blade into her neck until a thin trickle of blood appeared.

Faustina froze, calculating the best way to escape, and her odds.

Lanz spun her around, so she was facing the semicircle of Cento Occhi thieves that had followed him into the warehouse. They regarded her, expressions ranging from amused to bloodthirsty

"I always knew you were untrustworthy," Lanz pulled his knife away, and shoved her into the center of the circle, kicking her so she would fall. She landed in a crouch, but made no move to stand. Starting a fight now would be rash. She had no hope of killing all these men. Her only choice was to talk them out of whatever they planned to do.

"I never much liked the Borgia," Lanz cocked his head. He was strangely youthful in comparison to most of his men, but the impression of innocence was as false as Baltasar's barber shop. "But they have proven most useful employers. And I like a traitor even less."

Faustina's fingers closed around the hilt of her blade. "I'm no traitor."

Lanz chuckled. "You think the Cento Occhi don't have spies?" He took a step closer to her. She could see the madness in his eyes, the same look Garnette had before a kill. Hatred that wasn't directed at her, not really, but it didn't mean he wouldn't utilize it.

She had a reputation to maintain. Faustina forced a laugh. "You really think I would side with _La Volpe_? Not surprising, I suppose. I forgot to factor in how thick headed the Cento Occhi are."

The kick wasn't unexpected. His next words were.

"Throw her in the Tiber. We'll see if our little magpie can swim."

She lunged at the nearest thief, whipping her blade from her sleeve. She managed to strike a blow to the thief's forehead, but another grabbed her. He smashed her wrists against the side of the warehouse, and the scissor blade dropped from her fingers.

A kick to the groin loosened his grip, but by that time there were three more grabbing her. She dragged to the edge of the dock. Panic rose in her chest constricting her throat and making it impossible to think clearly. She fought like an animal, clawing and biting. The ark water lapping the dock was suddenly looking a lot less innocuous.

"No doubt I will have to explain this to Cesare," Lanz murmured, an annoyed expression crossing his face. "Bastard."

Those were the last words she heard before she was tossed in.


	7. Delirium

Faustina sank beneath the murky waters of the Tiber. She inhaled water, choked, and sputtered, only succeeding in gasping in water. Her head broke the surface for a second, and she managed to draw a breath, only for her heavy clothes to drag her down again. The current had already carried her beyond reach of the dock.

She clawed ineffectually at the water, trying to fight to the surface. The rank water seeped into her mouth and stung her eyes. All rational thought had been thrown out in favor of the desperate desire to survive.

Her muscles were locked with cold and panic, her lungs on fire, and her head swimming, but Faustina found a strange moment of clarity. The tide was carrying her farther and farther downriver. She watched the dim glow of the sunset grow farther and farther away as she sunk. The river slammed her against a rock. Something cushioned her impact, crunching beneath her. A corpse had been tossed into the river, and snagged on the rock. The river dwellers had picked it clean.

Bone splinters went everywhere. Faustina tried to quell her horror, but her oxygen-starved brain was running on overdrive. A skull floated past her and for a second she could have sworn she saw Adrian's face, taunting her, pleading with her as she drifted further into the depths.

She closed her eyes against her horrific companion, the bit of her brain that was still functioning enough to make witty comments remarking that soon she would be reduced to nothing more.

Her lungs could withstand the pressure no long. She breathed, sucking in nothing but water. And still she tried to fight to the surface. For Faustina there was no such thing as a peaceful end. Death brought no comfort. She was barely religious, but what she did know of religion told her she was going to hell. No dignity in death. There was only the constant need to survive.

Her vision was fading in a pattern of swirling black dots, and the blood pounding in her ears was beginning to slow its incessant cycles. Suddenly there was a flash of brown fabric, and someone had hold of her. Strong arms were pulling her through the water, up to the surface.

The yells and clash of weapons that suddenly split the tranquil silence, and she dimly registered she was above water again. Her consciousness was fading, when she finally remembered how to breathe. She couldn't seem to make her lungs move though, she was too tired… so tired… Whenever she tried she was only choking on water, as if she was still drowning.

With what little strength Faustina had left, she clung to her rescuer, fearing that they would see fit to let her drown if they saw her incompetence. She had been breathing all her life, surely she must be incompetent if she had suddenly been unable to.

Someone dragged her ashore, or at least she assumed she was on land again because she could feel the dirt under her fingers. Faustina lay on the shore, gasping, coughing up mouthfuls of foul river water. Some crouched down next to her, and when she looked up she was staring into familiar purple eyes.

La Volpe's clothing was soaked with river water, and she was hit with the delayed realization it had been he who pulled her from the Tiber. The ability to think logically was returning with each breathe she took. Faustina stared at him, aware of what a pathetic sight she was. She was still coughing convulsively, and uncontrollable tremors ran through her limbs.

The thief leader had discarded his cowl and cloak before jumping into the water, and she could see his face clearly now. He had dark hair, shot through with gray, and pulled back into a ponytail. His face was weathered and lined, appearing about thirty or forty. From what she had heard, La Volpe had been leading the thieves in Florence for over thirty years. Surely her sources must have been mistaken.

"Th-thank you," she said once the coughing had ceased. Her voice came out raspy and weak.

"It would have been unfortunate if you had died," he glanced towards where the sounds of battle were coming from, back to the dock where Faustina had been thrown in. "Luckily, I was coming to meet with another potential ally, and sent one of my thieves to carry a message to you. They saw the fight and reported back."

_Another potential ally?_ Faustina wanted to ask, to analyze what he had just told her, but the near drowning had exhausted her. "Thanks…" she repeated weakly, and collapsed.

(((((()))))))))

Sensations returned slowly. She became aware of sounds first- the murmur of voices nearby, speaking in low tones.

There was someone prodding Faustina's neck. Gloved fingers moved up to her face prying open her mouth. Instinctively she jerked away, her eyes snapping open. She was met with the sinister mask of a _dottore_. The polished glass eyes seemed to glare down at her menacingly, taking in all of her secrets.

Patiently, the doctor pried open her jaws again. The smell of burning herbs from his beak was overpowering, and she resisted the urge to cough. He peered down her throat, expression inscrutable. "If her lungs do not become infected, she should recover quickly."

"Good," a second voice said - La Volpe. The thief was standing off to the side, arms crossed over his chest.

Faustina closed her eyes, and feigned slipping back into sleep. She wanted time to gather her thoughts. She was back in La Volpe's base; she had recognized the decrepit walls. The clothing she was wearing was not hers- it was rougher fabric, and much lighter.

Mentally, the thief sorted through what she had been carrying earlier. Her scissor blade, lost in the struggle with the Cento Occhi, her coin purse, several smaller knives, some wire, and the note from Garnette. _Idiot,_ she cursed herself. _I should have burned it._ Still, the river water had probably washed the ink from the parchment. Even if it hadn't it didn't reveal information.

"Bleeding would balance her humors better, and drain any toxins from the river," she heard the doctor tell La Volpe. Faustina shuddered at the idea. Only a doctor would come up with the notion that causing further injury to a person would help them heal.

"I have been an assassin far too long to think spilling blood is beneficial to someone's health," La Volpe replied, his voice slightly mocking.

"Very well," the doctor's voice was muffled by the mask, but she was pretty sure there was more than a trace of annoyance in his voice. "That will be fifty florins.". There was a jingle of coins, and booted feet clomping towards the door. A moment later a lighter set of footsteps followed them. For a moment the thief listened, trying to pick out if there was anyone else in the room. She heard nothing around her, just a murmur of voices muffled by walls.

She relaxed. The situation was puzzling, but not an apparent cause for worry. La Volpe had spoken of seeking out another potential ally. That made sense, though she did wonder who it could be.

What made less sense was the fact La Volpe has saved her. Yes, she was a useful resource to him. However he seemed to already have a strong hold on the city, and among its thieves. She could provide useful information in fighting Cento Occhi, but why was that enough for the Assassin to risk his life? She would have let herself drown.

It was disconcerting. Faustina owed her life to the very man she had vowed to kill. Debts meant nothing to her if they did not suit her purposes… However, the thief leader was the reason her heart was still beating.

La Volpe didn't seem the naïve type. She didn't know Florence well, but if its underworld was anything like Roma's he wouldn't have last a day if he were idealistic, never mind risen to become the Thieves' Guild leader. From the rumors and from her interaction with him she could tell he was a clever, ruthless man.

The thief would have liked to analyze these events longer, but she was still weak, and the bed was warm and comfortable. She drew the blankets around her shivering frame, and drifted back into sleep.

(((((((()))))))))

She was cold. So cold.

She must be dead. The cold grip of death had its hands on her, drawing the life out through her eyes. Was she still drowning? Being carried away by the tide? That fit. There was a certain weightless quality to her state. Nothing seemed connected. The passing of times was fractured, interspersed with periods of nothing.

The seemed to be pinpricks of warmth, burning pain in her lungs. She took comfort from it. Pain meant she was alive. Right? There couldn't be pain after death. Not this kind. Maybe the flames would burn her, consume her being, but for now they seemed to drive death away. Or were the flames and the cold conspiring? Nothing was impossible. Nothing. She must always be ready to confront any possibility.

Drifting with the water… yet she could breathe. It was difficult, but she could gasp in air past the water. Perhaps she was falling then.

Adrian had fallen. The fall hadn't killed him.

No, an assassin had done that.

She had to get away. She was in the nest of her enemies, bound by them. Perhaps they would toss her into the water again. Or would they cut her throat, or her chest, watch her life drain away with the blood? How much blood would she bleed before she died? Enough to drown in?

Strange, she had never thought to learn to swim. It seemed none of her foresight could protect her. Perhaps it was all useless. No one was trustworthy; everyone had a motive to make her bleed.

But she could not let go. Surviving was her purpose.

She could still breathe. She was still breathing.

That was all that mattered.

(((()))))

Faustina Collari was not accustomed to being weak.

The best way to survive on the streets was to either avoid direct confrontation or show up everyone. The former option had always suited her and Adrian better, though they would occasionally need to eliminate a problem. To be injured in such a hard life was almost certain death. Especially after Adrian had died, and she had been left to fend for herself. Baltasar had given her minimal help or training, preferring to let the streets hone her skills. It was of no consequence to him whether she survived. If she didn't, he could find another with reason to revile the assassins.

With caution and luck, she never fell prey to serious illness or more than a handful of grave injuries. She had always retreated alone to nurse her wounds, never entrusting a doctor.

She lay in the Thieves' Guild base, trying to piece together her memories from the last few days. Her muscles ached from disuse, and her mouth was dry and parched. Cautiously, she opened one eye. Sunlight was filtering through the cracks in one boarded up window. Outside she could hear the bustle of everyday life. Through the opposite wall, she could hear the raucous laughter of perhaps ten people.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" someone to her right exclaimed, his voice earsplittingly excited.

The thief winced and covered her eyes, still adjusting to being awake again. Every sensation seemed to add to the ache in her head. When the pain his voice had woken in her skull subsided, she risked a glance.

It was the incompetent thief, Claudio. He was staring at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"How long has it been?" Faustina licked her lips.

"You've been here for three days, ever since Volpe pulled you from the river," Claudio replied. There was a pitcher of water beside the bed, a strange luxury in this ruin, and the younger thief hastily poured her a cup. He pressed it into her hands and continued "La Volpe was furious the Cento Occhi knew he was hunting them."

_He probably will suspect me of telling them._ She took a sip of the water. "I have had dealings with them before. Lanz is a clever bastard. He would know that the first thing La Volpe would do after establishing himself would be to hunt down rival gangs."

"But how did he know you were allied with us?" Claudio asked.

"Hmmm," she shrugged. "That is information for your master."

"My master?" Claudio looked puzzled.

Faustina sighed. "La Volpe. Is he not your master?"

"He is our leader, yes," Claudio nodded. "But I wouldn't call him our master."

"Use what term you wish," she said. "I do have one question however… why did La Volpe see fit to pull me from the Tiber?"

"You're our ally," Claudio said. "We take care of our own."

Faustina blinked. What an odd concept. She waited for him to elaborate, but it seemed that was he had on the subject.

"You were really sick," the young thief looked worried for a moment. "The _dottore_ said that your lungs were infected from the river water."

She took a deep breath, noticing the sharp pain in her chest. "Will it go away?"

"It already has, mostly," he said. "Your fever broke last night. According to the _dottore_ all you need is a few days of rest."

That was advice to be disregarded. She had already lost far too much time. "Is La Volpe here?"

"He just returned from meeting the other assassins," Claudio nodded.

"Can you fetch him for me? I have information for him," she swallowed another mouthful of water. For a moment her survival instincts reminded her it could be poisoned, but she had been at La Volpe's mercy for the past days. A knife between the ribs, or simply letting her drown or die of infection would be easier.

Claudio hesitated, but then nodded. He walked towards the door, putting his cap back on.

A few minutes later, La Volpe strode into the room. He was not a notably tall man, but he commanded attention. He stood like a fighter, constantly ready to draw the sword that hung at his belt.

"Faustina," a smile played over La Volpe's lips. "I am glad to see you have recovered."

"Thanks to you," she grinned, and for once it wasn't false. She was grateful.

"After my thieves chased off the Cento Occhi, Claudio found this. He guessed it was yours," La Volpe took her scissor blade from his belt.

It took an effort not to snatch it from him. Her grin widened as she ran her hand over the familiar contours of the weapon. She had been wielding it for so long it felt like an extension of herself, not to mention it was the last tie to her brother and her family. Losing it would have been difficult. "Thank you." Once more, she was in La Volpe's debt.

"Claudio said you had some information for me," La Volpe said.

"Lanz was overconfident in his assumption I would die. He let slip he has a spy among your men." Briefly she wondered if it was Paganino. Unlikely, unless his persona of a fanatic was a guise. He wouldn't do anything to harm the Templar cause, and he knew she had to act as if she were converted to the Assassin cause.

The smile fell from the thief leader's face. He looked at her intently, and when he replied his voice was tight with anger. "A spy?"

She nodded. "That is how he learned I sided with you." If La Volpe's thief had not overheard that information, he couldn't have overheard Lanz calling her a traitor. If he had heard, it was a mere annoyance, but her situation was precarious already.

La Volpe turned on his heel. "Bad news indeed…" He strode towards the door.

"Volpe," she called after him. "Are you still planning on attacking the Cento Occhi?"

"Yes," he called over his shoulder, pausing. "Tell me the locations of the bases you know of."

Withholding them had been a precaution, both of her persona for this mission, the converted Faustina, and for herself. To make sure he wasn't planning on just getting what information he could and then offing her. If Faustina had been genuinely swayed to the Assassin's side, La Volpe's rescue would have done away with any suspicions.

"One of them is in a warehouse, at the edge of the poor district," she replied. "The other is a small house out in the countryside. A few miles from the Coliseum."

"I will lead some of my thieves there tomorrow," he said. "How well defended are they?"

"The Cento Occhi are unaccustomed to being challenged," Faustina replied. "The smaller bases are occupied by underlings, and if we attack towards nightfall they will all be drunk."

"'We'?" there was a slight sardonic edge to his voice.

"Move the attack to the day after tomorrow. I will accompany you."


	8. Don't Run With Scissors

They attacked at nightfall.

Faustina crouched beside Claudio. The thieves had the warehouse surrounded, waiting for La Volpe's order to attack. The thief leader was perched on top of the crumbling remains of a Borgia watchtower that had been attacked by the assassin a month or two earlier. It was after that that the Cento Occhi had made the warehouse one of their bases- though their leaders had struck a deal with the Templars, it didn't prevent the guards from attacking the footpads and visa versa.

She saw La Volpe scan the entrance of the warehouse. Several of the Cento Occhi lounged outside. They were probably meant to be standing guard, but they were so drunk merely standing was proving a challenge. Instead they milled about, sitting or leaning against empty crates and playing dice or telling tall tales. The sort of thing most people did when drunk.

La Volpe clambered down the tower, and dropped lightly onto the street below. The dark sepia of his cloak blended in with the shadow of the tower. When he stepped into the dim lantern light to steal across the street it almost looked like he had materialized there. He was visible for only a second before flattening himself to the side of the warehouse. He crept by a pair of thieves and over a stack of crates, to stand by the three Cento Occhi members closest to the warehouse door.

In a quick movement the thief leader drew a blade from his sleeve and slit the closest thief's throat. The man fell with only a gurgle, collapsing against his comrades. La Volpe stepped into the other two thieves' view, purple eyes gleaming and the knife in his hand glinting.

Faustina almost laughed aloud at the stunned looks on the thieves' faces. By the time sense had permeated their haze of alcohol, it was too late to reach for a weapon. La Volpe stabbed one through the throat, and the other through the chest. He raised his free hand, and then made a swift downward gesture. A signal to attack.

After that many of the details were lost in a blur of action. Faustina ran forwards, alongside the other thieves. They swarmed the building, cutting down the remaining guards and rushing inside.

Beside Faustina, Claudio was holding his dagger unsteadily. He managed to deflect a blow, then spun and slashed his opponent across the chest. For a moment Claudio froze, staring in horror at the blood splattered across his hands and chest. Faustina stepped in and finished off his opponent with a slash of her scissor blade.

Claudio was a fairly competent fighter, once he got over the initial fumble, and unconsciously they began working as a team, compensating for each other's shortcomings. Faustina had years more experience, but she was still weak. Claudio had no taste for blood, but had far more energy than her. It fell into a familiar, almost comforting pattern, and in the heat of battle it was easy to forget it wasn't Adrian at her side.

The Cento Occhi were trapped, and the fight was over in minutes. Faustina was grateful for the respite. She leaned against the wall of the warehouse, watching Volpe's thieves pick through the pockets of their victims. _I really have to get my strength back, quickly. _There was no room for weakness among the Templars. Cesare wouldn't hesitate to replace her if she stopped being effective.

Claudio came to stand beside her, fidgeting with his dagger. For some reason he hadn't joined his fellows in scavenging.

"You fought well," she said absently, bending down to wipe her scissor blade clean on the vest of a corpse, and then reflexively going to tuck it into her sleeve. The thief uniform she was wearing didn't have sleeves, so she settled with hanging it at her belt.

"I suppose," Claudio muttered.

She shot him a glance. "Why so sullen?"

"I…" he scowled. "I… how is it so easy for you and the others to kill?"

"Ah," Faustina sighed. "You just get used to it. Killing is a necessary to stay alive on the streets, sooner or later. It gets easier."

Claudio did not look convinced. "I suppose."

Faustina could only vaguely remember a time when she was bothered by blood or violence. Once she and Adrian had been forced to fend for themselves, they had to resort to a number of unthinkable things to survive. Thieves were not above killing each other to steal money or protect what they perceived as their territory, and Faustina and Adrian had been seen as easy pickings.

"You'll learn," she said, and left it at that.

((((((((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))

While half of the thieves attacked the warehouse base, La Volpe's unofficial second in command, a thief called Benedetto, led a group of thieves out to Cento Occhi base in the countryside. La Volpe reasoned that it was a good strategy to strike both bases at once. That way there would be no time for the Cento Occhi thieves to regroup or set up defenses.

The second group of thieves had been even more successful. Benedetto said that he had caught a Cento Occhi leader visiting the base, and dispatched him along with the others. It was far from a decisive blow, but it would stir up trouble among the Cento Occhi thieves. Lanz and the other leaders would have their hands full trying to choose someone to replace the leader Benedetto had slain, as well as plotting revenge.

Back at the Thieves' Guild, Faustina overheard and interesting conversation between La Volpe and Benedetto. She was sitting with Claudio and another thief called Aldo, playing dice. The other two were well on their way to being drunk, but Faustina was only miming drinking from her mug. When no one was looking she poured the alcohol into Claudio's cup.

"So you aren't allied with the other Assassins?" she heard Benedetto say.

La Volpe sighed. "I will not withdraw my support completely. However, I refuse to work alongside a man who is so clearly a traitor. I don't know how Ezio can trust him, considering his career."

Faustina maintained her act of drunkenness, but internally perked up. Distrust among the Assassins? That was something that she could use. Fear was easy to manipulate.

"I see," Benedetto said. "I will instruct a few thieves to shadow him."

"_Bene_," La Volpe replied. "Faustina, you might as well join us. I can tell you aren't drunk."

Faustina straightened, swinging around to look at the thief with disbelief. She had perfected that act for years! How the hell had he seen through it so easily?

La Volpe's eyes sparkled with mischief, and a grin exposed rows of white teeth. "I have been playing this game for far longer than you," he beckoned her. "This old fox knows quite a few tricks."

With a dismayed shake of her head, she rose to join the head thieves. "I was only curious."

"No doubt you have an interest in knowing what transpires in your territory," La Volpe said. "There is a man in the Assassin Order who has come under suspicion. For now that is all you need to know. If you hear any rumors of an Assassin giving information to the Templars, tell me immediately."

It was a curt dismissal, but Faustina let it slide this once. She nodded and took her leave.

((((((((((())))))))))))))

Faustina had been planning to spend the day after the attack on the Cento Occhi bases recuperating. The sickness had taken a lot of her strength, and she couldn't afford to be sluggish in the coming deceptions she would have to weave to gain her prey's trust.

It seemed her superiors had other plans for her.

That morning she headed out to get some supplies to replenish the stores of her hideout. She was just rounding a corner when someone touched her shoulder. She was still jumpy from her near death experience, and all too quick to over compensate for her weakness. She spun around and had her scissor blade halfway out of her sleeve before she recognized the man who had drawn her attention.

The blade disappeared back into her sleeve before she could draw breathe. This man was dangerous, very dangerous. He stood before her clad in a dark overcoat, the seams embroidered with gold and white thread. His right hand rested on the hilt of his _epieu_ in a casual, threatening manner.

"Officer Viscardi," Faustina nodded to the man. He held a position in Cesare's army, but like most of the Templars, his assignments were usually solitary assassination missions. Unlike the Dama Rossa, who augmented her list of murders with her personal vendetta against traitorous men with seemingly no rhyme or reason, the Officer had made no attempt to fade into anonymity or mystery. He was looked up to among the guards and soldiers as a ruthless killer and a cunning tactician.

Faustina had no clue what he would want with her. Men such as Viscardi had their own informers, and normally had no use for people like her.

"Sister," his voice was barely audible. The archaic method of address that the Templars rarely used anymore was a mere method of identifying himself as part of the Order, but the title still made her stiffen.

"Brother," she nodded back.

"I see you are as solitary as usual," he said. It took the thief a moment to process the hidden meaning behind the uncharacteristically flippant comment. _Are you being followed?_

A subtle glance at the rooftops told her there were no thieves lurking. She steered Viscardi farther into the alley, away from the ears of two courtesans standing by the corner. "I have no patience for hangers-on, as you know."

"Good," he smiled, a mere twitch of his facial muscles. "Does the man you are watching have a spy among the city guards?"

She considered. La Volpe had many informants already, but as far she knew not any in the guards. "Not to my knowledge. Why?"

Officer Viscardi looked like he was going to refuse to tell her, but seemed to think better of it. "I caught a guard yesterday looking through my records," he scowled. "Looking for the names of Templars, I believe. The man is dead, but I have reason to believe he may have had accomplices."

A taunt directed at Viscardi's talents as an interrogater danced on the tip of her tongue, but her wariness of the man kept her silent. Besides, the seriousness of the situation did not escape her attention. If the Assassins got their hands on a list of the Templar operatives… the results would be disastrous. "I see. I will tell you if I hear anything." It was a useful bit of information, so she decided to give him a bit of what she knew as well. "However, La Volpe may not know what the other Assassins do. He is at odds with them, or so I have heard."

"Interesting," Viscardi's eyes narrowed. "I will be in touch with you, Signora Collari. Oh- I forgot to mention. Lucrezia asked that I tell you she expects you at the Castel San'Angelo before noon."

A glance at the sun told her it was noon already. She heard Viscardi laughing as she sprinted away from the alleyway.

She didn't make it more than a few blocks before she heard someone call "Faustina! FAUSTINA!"

The thief skidded to a halt, and glanced over her shoulder. Claudio was running towards her, and almost smashed right into her. She stepped aside in time. "What?"

"One of the Assassins is meeting with a Borgia guard in Trastavere," the young thief said once he had caught his breath. "He's the one suspected of treachery. Benito was sent to get Volpe- I thought since you were allied with the Assassins now I should fetch you as well…"

Her eyes widened. This was the best news she had heard all day. _Bless Claudio and his naiveté._ It was a bit of a leap, but Officer Viscardi had mentioned some of his men had been handing over information to the Assassins. La Volpe suspected one of his allies of consorting with the Templars. It could just be a coincidence, but coincidences like that didn't happen often in her experience. Either the Templars had a low-level traitor or the Assassins had a very high level one, though she would bet on the former. It didn't really matter, as long as she made sure to keep La Volpe's suspicions alive. This was something she could work with.

Paranoia and suspicion could tear apart any faction.


	9. Machiavelli

**A/N: Sorry for the late update! I have been really busy the past two weeks, with theater and some other stuff. Thank you so much for the reviews, as usual they make my day.**

Faustina followed Claudio into the Trastavere. Off to the side of a small square, a few thieves were crouched around a corner. They were peering at a man lurking in the shadow of a tumbled-down building. The man was out of the place in the dingy neighborhood, dressed in a finely-tailored suit and seeming to have a polished look, akin to Cesare or any of the other politicians and nobles that crowded the finer parts of Roma. It was too far to see his face, but one of the thieves muttered "That's Machiavelli, the traitorous bastard."

_Machiavelli…?_ The name meant nothing to her, but he certainly appeared to be some sort of noble. Nobles weren't her territory. "Is he allied with the assassins?"

A somber-looking thief who looked a lot like an older version of Claudio nodded grimly, saying "Or at least he is supposed to be."

The noble- Machiavelli- looked like he was expecting someone. He was ill at ease, throwing glances over his shoulder and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

A young guard slipped away from his fellows on patrol and sidled over to Machiavelli, making sure to check the other guard's attention was elsewhere before getting close to the politician.

From a tall building opposite where the thieves stood, a flash of white caught Faustina's attention. The sun was already beginning its downward creep towards the ground, and the shadows were long, but she could just make out the form of the assassin, Ezio, staring down at his supposed ally. Beside him another figure, obscured completely, but she would be willing to bet it was La Volpe.

Faustina considered the situation. According to Officer Viscardi, it was most likely the guard was treacherous and La Volpe's suspicions misplaced. The thief leader had reputation for being paranoid. Anyone in that business would have had to have survived innumerable attacks, and had a right to be cautious. A scheme began to form in her mind, and it made her slightly uneasy. It seemed so easy to use someone's paranoia against them… and she knew paranoia was one of her worst flaws.

The guard reached into his belt, pulling something out and surreptitiously slipping it to Machiavelli. She tensed, suspicions confirmed. No doubt this was the list of Templar agents Officer Viscardi had been so worried about. What if it listed her name? She had to stop him, had to steal the list back, anything to get it out of the assassins' hands. The panic constricted into an aching feeling in her chest, and she had to fight down the urge to run, to instead force her mind to plan.

The little detail it had been the guard giving something to Machiavelli could easily be lost in the heat of the moment, and even if the others had noticed it she could rationalize she thought Machiavelli had something to give the guard as well. Assassins' secrets, thieves' secrets. La Volpe was already convinced this man was a traitor, and it was always easier to accept the word of someone who was agreeing with you.

With the distraction, she could pickpocket Machiavelli and destroy his list.

"He's going to give something to the guard!" she hissed. "We should attack now!"

The man who was clearly related to Claudio shot her a suspicious look. "If we attack those guards, the others will come to his aid."

"There are more than enough of us," another of the thieves spoke up. "I say we attack."

"Right," Faustina sprang forward, not giving them any more time to debate. The other thieves followed, quickly outpacing her. Good. She didn't want to draw the Auditore's attention to herself, or become embroiled in the fight. She had to get that list.

Three guards stood between the thieves and the clandestine meeting. Claudio, having rushed out ahead of the others, dealt the first one a blow across the chest with his knife, his inhibitions of the previous night vanished in the excitement of battle. The middle guard was quick to react, stabbing the point of his pike into Claudio's shoulder. The sharp point, backed by the heavier head, smashed into his arm with enough force to tear flesh from bone. He fell, dropped his knife to clutch at the horrific wound. The guard pulled his pike back to deliver a killing blow.

Plans of pickpocketting instantly forgotten, Faustina sprinted out ahead and dispatched the pike-wielding guard with a blade in the throat. He fell with a gurgling cry, but managed to smash his pike into her hand on his way down. She grimaced at the pain of bruised fingers, but didn't loosen her grip on her blade. The encounter with the Cento Occhi had taught her that.

The other thieves ran past her to finish off the third guard, and the youth who had been Machiavelli's informant was killed seconds later. More guards were appearing to take their comrade's places, rushing from their posts and patrols towards the commotion.

The thieves were quickly outnumbered three to one, and Faustina felt another stab of panic. She could very well die here at the hands of those were supposed to be her allies- though since she had killed their fellows, she doubted they would care even if they knew she was a Templar.

All remaining thoughts of the list were driven in favor of staying alive. She stood over Claudio, struck down the first guard, and then saw the other thieves were fleeing. She was driven back against the wall, away from Claudio, by two more guards, and finally just ducked between them and ran after the other thieves.

"Volpe! My son Claudio is injured!" it was the thief that had spoken earlier, shouting up to the spot where the two Assassin leaders were hiding.

Faustina paused by Claudio's father, and he gave her a hateful look, then resumed calling for help. Cesare would have struck the man down for daring to order him around, or insinuate that his life was worth risking for a common soldier. La Volpe had already proved to be different, yet it was surprising when the Auditore assassin jumped his vantage point to join the fight. La Volpe raced across the rooftops, quickly dispatching the archers that had been taking potshots at the fleeing thieves, before joining Ezio fighting the guards away from the Claudio.

In minutes the two had decimated the guards. La Volpe exchanged a few words with Ezio, then headed back towards the other thieves. The Auditore assassin beckoned Claudio to follow him.

"Ezio will help Claudio to our rendezvous point, Trimalchio," La Volpe assured Claudio's father, brushing past them. "It would be foolish to linger here any longer."

Faustina looked around for Machiavelli, but the man had disappeared. Internally she cursed herself for getting distracted. If she did not get her hands on that list it might well mean the end of her and everyone she counted as an ally.

"I will follow that man," Faustina called to La Volpe, gesturing in the direction Machiavelli had disappeared to. "Find out if he is going to meet with any other people allied with the Templars."

La Volpe nodded, his thoughts seeming elsewhere, and disappeared into the shadows with his thieves.

(((((((((())))))))))

It took Faustina twenty minutes to figure out which route Machiavelli had taken, and follow him. She tailed him from the rooftops, careful to keep at a distance lest he notice any movement. Though the man appeared to be your average noble, he was an Assassin, and she had no reason to believe he couldn't perform the same tricks Ezio and La Volpe could.

She had just gotten up her courage enough to slink down to the streets and start to approach the noble, hoping to get the chance to pickpocket the list from him, when a loud commotion interrupted her concentration. A man sprung from a house, pursued by a woman wielding a fire poker and shouting obscenities. By the time she had dodged around the display, Machiavelli had disappeared once again.

Faustina searched the neighborhood for him until nightfall, without any success.

It was only then she remembered her appointment with Lucrezia Borgia.

One did not refuse an audience with one of the Borgias and come away unharmed, and one did not often outright ignore a request by a Borgia and escape with their lives. Faustina stopped dead, glancing at the sky. The last of the sun's light was just disappearing over the horizon. No hope of even being fashionably late.

Icy dread slithered its way into her stomach. The fact that she had just slighted one of the most powerful women in Roma, combined with the news that the assassins likely knew of her and many of the other Templars was enough to make her blood run cold. She was doomed, soon to be hunted by both sides.

The instinct to run, to flee as far as her legs would carry her flared within her for a moment. She quelled the instinct, and instead put her desperate energy to a different use. She scaled the nearest building easily, and ran across the roofs until she saw the outline of ruined Borgia tower on the skyline. The towers had been destroyed by the Assassins, but the Pope's funds were being directed elsewhere. There was no money to reestablish them as points of order in the city that grew more chaotic every day.

An Assassin-won tower was not the first place anyone after her would look, and the towers made good places to think, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Apparently she was not the only one to come to this conclusion, because when she dropped down from the roof, there was a figure leaning against the half-destroyed railing. She stiffened.

"Volpe." Instantly suspicions whirled through her mind. Had he already looked at the list? Hopefully his enmity and mistrust of Machiavelli would keep him from finding out soon, but no doubt Ezio would relay him the information eventually.

He glanced back, regarding her tiredly. "Faustina." If he was surprised to find her there, his tone did not show it.

"Is Claudio alright?" it was the biggest fear her Assassin-loyal personality would have at that moment. Disconcertingly, she realized the concern did not have to be forced into her voice. She had actually come to care about the young thief.

"He'll live, thanks to Ezio," the thief leader sighed. "Whether or not he will make a full recovery, it is down to his own strength and the skill of the doctor who attended to him." She blinked at the raw note in his voice.

"Is there other troubles within the Assassin Order?" Faustina asked.

He cast her a wry look. "You already know too much, thanks to Claudio. No more than that, however. Ezio insists Machiavelli had not betrayed us, though god knows there is enough evidence to the contrary. However, he is a good man, and I owe him much. If he trust Machiavelli… so will I."

Faustina had to suppress a smile. La Volpe was tired, and exhaustion had much the same effect as liquor in loosening the tongue. "You can trust me with that piece of information. Even if I intended to do something with it, I haven't a clue who Machiavelli is."

La Volpe chuckled. "No doubt you will take it upon yourself to find out," he turned his gaze back to the city below. "What is troubling you?"

She straightened, and replied a bit too sharply "What?"

"You appear preoccupied," La Volpe replied.

Even with half of her mind convinced she would be dead before the next nightfall, the other half worked to use every crumb of opportunity to her advantage. "As you know, I have done a bit of work for the Borgia family before, as have most talented individuals," she said. "I was… called upon again today. A call which a refused."

"Ah," La Volpe nodded. "And you are afraid for your life."

"Wary, yes," Faustina replied. "As I have out my appearance of neutrality in jeopardy, and the guards might be looking for me specifically."

He turned back and gave her a long look. "You play a dangerous game. The best way to win such gambles is to cheat."

"Sound advice," she replied, uncertain at his meaning.

He laughed, and clambered over the railing. "Meet me tomorrow at Thieves' Guild." With those parting words, he climbed down and disappeared in the crowd below.

It was only a few minutes later she realized that perhaps he had meant good luck.

She brushed the riddle off, and refocused on her odds. Now that the initial terror had died down, she chided herself for assuming her chances so bad and letting fear cloud her reasoning. Lucrezia would have to be placated, not an easy task, but one that could be accomplished. As for the list… As for as she knew, the guards in on the conspiracy had been of common rank, probably without the means to dig deeply into the Templar ranks. If they had had access to Officer Viscardi's records, there was nothing there to indicate she was a Templar. They might have drawn that conclusion, but it was just as likely they had not. Until she got a look at the list herself, she would just have to continue on as usual.

With these things sorted out, there were other priorities to be arranged. Officer Viscardi needed to be informed the other traitor had been killed. She needed to find the list of Templar agents, and warn them if possible. A debt was owed to Lia, for the merchandise the Cento Occhi or La Volpe's thieves had probably stolen after they had finished fighting.

And she needed to begin slipping the poison to La Volpe.


End file.
